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Post Moronic Things You've Done to Make Me Feel Better About What I Did

Not a crazy/stupid move on my part but it was intense to say the least.


Was down in Honduras when I was a missionary (Mormon, yes I know, shocking) when a bunch of drunk guys came out into the street to mess with the Mormons. Well I guess the lead drunk did not like the way I looked. So he pulled out a old POS pistol and pointed at my face. I am right in the middle of this crappy dirt road in a podunk village about 1 1/2 hours from the Honduran form of civilization. So I was on my own. The drunk goes off about Los Mormones y Norte Americanos (Mormons and North Americans). He threw in a plethora of swear words and ended it all by telling me that I am the anit-christ and that he was going to kill me. His buddies thought this was great sport.

All this time I am sizing him up and looking at an potential escape options/chances so I can run like hell or try and take him. I had him by 6 inchesish and probably 40 lbs. Plus he was drunk and I was sober and in full bodily control. The problem is that he is probably 8-10 feet away so my chances of getting him before he pulls the trigger are poor. Just as I am thinking that I have to act or die some pretty women walk by and all his buddies start hollering at them and trying to get their attention. That in turn drew the atention of the gun man away from me. I used that distraction to get the hell out of dodge. So yes, I was saved by *****.
 
What? You wouldn't classify these as moronic? Listen, I think they're funny as hell but there's a ton of idiocy in each of them. No shocker really, I know.

Yes, I see the moronic side, but they all have pretty positive endings, not the tragic near death/injury/embarrassment of the others.
 
Not a crazy/stupid move on my part but it was intense to say the least.


Was down in Honduras when I was a missionary (Mormon, yes I know, shocking) when a bunch of drunk guys came out into the street to mess with the Mormons. Well I guess the lead drunk did not like the way I looked. So he pulled out a old POS pistol and pointed at my face. I am right in the middle of this crappy dirt road in a podunk village about 1 1/2 hours from the Honduran form of civilization. So I was on my own. The drunk goes off about Los Mormones y Norte Americanos (Mormons and North Americans). He threw in a plethora of swear words and ended it all by telling me that I am the anit-christ and that he was going to kill me. His buddies thought this was great sport.

All this time I am sizing him up and looking at an potential escape options/chances so I can run like hell or try and take him. I had him by 6 inchesish and probably 40 lbs. Plus he was drunk and I was sober and in full bodily control. The problem is that he is probably 8-10 feet away so my chances of getting him before he pulls the trigger are poor. Just as I am thinking that I have to act or die some pretty women walk by and all his buddies start hollering at them and trying to get their attention. That in turn drew the atention of the gun man away from me. I used that distraction to get the hell out of dodge. So yes, I was saved by *****.

Why didn't you stand on their feet, punch 'm in the nuts and then pluck out their teeth, one by one?
 
Yes, I see the moronic side, but they all have pretty positive endings, not the tragic near death/injury/embarrassment of the others.

That's Wes for you. He is so handsome and so smooth that even though he has moments that resemble something we would all consider moronic, they all end well with a good lay.
 
That's Wes for you. He is so handsome and so smooth that even though he has moments that resemble something we would all consider moronic, they all end well with a good lay.

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This is who I picture him to be from his description of himself.

But I think he actually teaches Middle School kids, so this is what I think he actually looks like.
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Why didn't you stand on their feet, punch 'm in the nuts and then pluck out their teeth, one by one?

the 8-10 feet. By the time I get to them I have probably taken one to the chest or face. If I had been closer I could have gotten ahold of them and done some damage and according to the story I was about to try.
 
the 8-10 feet. By the time I get to them I have probably taken one to the chest or face. If I had been closer I could have gotten ahold of them and done some damage and according to the story I was about to try.

That's cool. Running is pretty neat too.
 
In High school being a 6' 115-120lb redhead, which = invisible kick my *** sign that a-holes can read. I have a lot of stories that involve somebody or several somebodies trying or wanting to beat me senseless and end with me either me have me joking my way out of it or most of them have me fleeing for my life after I decided to talk **** back.

Summarizing the events, mind you none of these to this day did I start or even know why they came at me: Being chased by cowboys (common theme for me growing up) with baseball bats, running from Polynesian gang members, getting pepper sprayed, sitting at a light only to look up and have a fist flying at me which I was quick enough to duck and have him spit his knuckles on the top of my boney forehead, which he wasn't happy about and a car chase ensued. My favorite and yet a separate car chase that had me going into on coming traffic in downtown SLC on a Sat. night that lasted around 7-8min and me throwing cans of Pepsi denting there nice new'ish lifted truck.


So while I'm not a good story teller and not wanting to get into detail those examples should make you feel much better by example.
 
On my mission, there was a guy who tried to rob my companion and I. He pulled a knife on us and asked for our money in front our apartment. I ended up grabbing the knife, tackling him to the ground, punching and elbowing him senseless and then chased him off with his own knife. Win.

The cops came and told me I could keep the knife and to stay away from the guy cause he's dangerous. I still have the knife today.
 
On my mission, there was a guy who tried to rob my companion and I. He pulled a knife on us and asked for our money in front our apartment. I ended up grabbing the knife, tackling him to the ground, punching and elbowing him senseless and then chased him off with his own knife. Win.

The cops came and told me I could keep the knife and to stay away from the guy cause he's dangerous. I still have the knife today.

Hell yea. A punk kid (16-18) and three of his friends tried to take a pair of sister missionaries from me (I was their DL). That did no't go down very well for them. I back handed one right across the face knocking him down and threw two more into the dirt. The fourth guy turned into a pansy at that point and backed down. They thought Mormones wouldn't defend themselves.
 
I never went on a mission. Except for a couple weeks to Morelia, MX. No fighting in those two weeks, either.

Had no idea you mormons are such badasses.
 
I never went on a mission. Except for a couple weeks to Morelia, MX. No fighting in those two weeks, either.

Had no idea you mormons are such badasses.

Plenty of stories that go the other way. Two of my fellow missionaries were robbed at knife point and left beaten and naked in the street.

One guy took a machete to the backpack after he was bent over from a stomach shot. The machete hit his camera which saved his life.

Sister missionaries were assaulted and were going to be raped when some members of the public came forward to save them.

One missionary had all his possessions (clothes, camera, luggage, books, cassete player, pictures...) stolen from his house twice within 4 weeks.

One was hit by a car on purpose (survived, was sent home. for surgery)

Plenty of stories there. I mean it is about 200-400 people that often look drastically different from those around them and they live their for two years. Plenty of chances for bad things to happen.
 
the 8-10 feet. By the time I get to them I have probably taken one to the chest or face. If I had been closer I could have gotten ahold of them and done some damage and according to the story I was about to try.

Didn't you go through Captain Mormerica training? Your suitcase is supposed to be packed full of enough bibles to make a holy book shield.
 
Didn't you go through Captain Mormerica training? Your suitcase is supposed to be packed full of enough bibles to make a holy book shield.

Not in Central America where you carry a backpack and most people cannot read. You need to be light on your feet and able to move quickly. **** can get serious fast down there.
 
I feel like an absolute ***** when I read these recollections of your guys' stories.


Closest I have ever gotten into a fight was when I confronted three kids after they spat on my car, and then we got in a scuffle until they pulled out these batons on us; we promptly drove away.

I pretty much have zero fight experience.
 
I feel like an absolute ***** when I read these recollections of your guys' stories.


Closest I have ever gotten into a fight was when I confronted three kids after they spat on my car, and then we got in a scuffle until they pulled out these batons on us; we promptly drove away.

I pretty much have zero fight experience.

Good, fighting is grossly over rated. Better to avoid it if possible.
 
Not in Central America where you carry a backpack and most people cannot read. You need to be light on your feet and able to move quickly. **** can get serious fast down there.

That sucks. If I was a missionary in Central America I'd go Friar Tuck style by making a cutout inside a bible to hide my taser. I'd also put pompoms on my bicycle handles pull off as a whips (and use them on the sister mish's).
 
That sucks. If I was a missionary in Central America I'd go Friar Tuck style by making a cutout inside a bible to hide my taser. I'd also put pompoms on my bicycle handles pull off as a whips (and use them on the sister mish's).

No lie but we did not have bikes. Makes you even more or a target and you would not last the week.

The key is to blend in as much as possible.
 
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